Chapter Text
Chapter Five
“There is a situation that you should be aware of, Namadith,” Fíli announced as they sparred three days later. Dwalin and Thorin were mirroring their actions a few dozen feet away and Kíli was firing arrow after arrow at numerous targets as quickly as he could.
Bella raised an eyebrow at him as Sting clashed against her brother’s sword with a sharp peal of sound, “It must be important, since you waited until we could not be overheard even accidentally.”
“It isn’t bad, necessarily,” Fíli assured, “But, yes, it is rather important.”
“What is it?”
Fíli hesitated and then spoke in a manner that was almost a sigh, “It has to do with courting.”
Bella frowned at him, “What about courting?”
“Two dwarves approached me last night asking if you would be receptive to being offered courting gifts,” Fíli related in a careful tone, “I told them the truth, that I myself doubted you would be.”
“No,” Bella said firmly, parrying a lunge, “Absolutely not. I don’t… no.”
“I figured as much,” Fíli told her, “But I was required to ask to be absolutely sure.”
“Why in the Green Lady’s name would they want…” Bella huffed, “Surely they have to know that I gave my share of the treasure away to Bard.”
Fíli stared at her, very obviously upset, “Oh, Bella.”
“Fíli?” Bella tilted her head, bemused, “Fíli, what’s wrong?”
“How can you not see…?” Fíli exhaled sharply and then spoke in a tone as blunt as Bella had ever heard from him, “You’re immeasurably kind, you’re exceedingly intelligent, and you’re ridiculously brave. You outwitted a Mahal-damned dragon and destroyed Sauron, for Eru’s sake. You gave away a fortune to stop a war and save your kin; you walked across all of Arda and refused to pay any heed to those who told you that you couldn’t. You see no distinction between a dwarf and an elf and a man; you love equally and you scoff at the mere idea of putting yourself before others. You are exceptionally beautiful, by the standards of every race, Bél. You are amazing… and your inability to understand just how amazing is unfathomable to everyone who loves you, Bella. Every dwarrow in this Mountain wants to get to know you.”
Bella’s breath hitched in her throat, “I think that you may be a bit biased, Nadad.”
“I think that your sense of self-worth is much too low,” Fíli countered at once, evading a blow from Sting by shifting left.
“I don’t want to see any courting gifts, Fee,” Bella returned after a long moment, “Not now, not ever again.”
“You know that we’d never allow anyone from the Shire to hurt you, don’t you?” Fíli asked softly.
“I do know, but that’s not why I don’t want anyone trying to court me,” Bella replied. Her gaze flickered briefly to Thorin, who was now wrestling with Dwalin, “I… I’m never going to be able to stop loving him, Fíli. It would be callous and horrendously wrong of me to allow someone else believe that I could be happy with them.”
Fíli looked remarkably unsurprised by this and he gave her a wry smile, “I understand. I’ll ensure that everyone else knows that you’re unavailable for courting. There might be a few who try to offer you gifts anyway, though, so be aware of that.”
“Anyone who keeps trying after having already heard my refusal is going to get decked,” Bella promised.
Fíli chuckled, “Aim for their noses.”
In a swift move, Fíli knocked Sting out of Bella’s grip and tripped her, knocking the wind out of her in a very efficient fashion.
“Are you alright?” Fíli asked, holding out a hand. He only sounded mildly concerned, which was a stark contrast to how he’d sounded the first few times he’d knocked her down during a training session. Bella was grateful that he’d gotten past the stage where he insisted that Óin check her over each time.
“I feel like punching something, actually,” Bella admitted, letting him pull her up, “Hard and repeatedly.”
“I could go fetch Dáin, if you’d like,” Fíli offered, entirely serious, “If you think it would make you feel better.”
Bella snorted in amusement, “That would be rather petty of me, seeing as how I publicly forgave him last night.”
“We’ll call it training,” Fíli suggested with a devious smirk.
Bella rolled her eyes and raised Sting back up.
“What are your plans for today?” Fíli inquired then.
“I’m going to Dale with Bombur, and my guards, so don’t fuss, to get supplies for the party tonight,” Bella told him.
“Grocery shopping?” Fíli rejoined blithely, his eyes sparkling with mirth.
“Don’t pretend to be coy, Nadad,” Bella chided, “It doesn’t suit you.”
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Bella had enjoyed her first excursion to Dale’s market, had taken pleasure in wandering between the stalls, her eyes flitting between one brightly-colored object and the next. Despite being in the company of Erebor’s heirs and Dale’s, or perhaps because of it, Bella had not received any great deal of attention. Being wrapped up head to toe in a mélange of fabrics had probably helped.
Now, though, dressed as she was in expensive clothing that accentuated her identity, she was getting plenty of looks. Many were reverential, appreciative, and kind, and it was easy to ignore this kind of attention, or nod cordially at an individual when she could not. Some of the gazes she drew, however, were dark, assessing, and ugly, as if she had been weighed and found wanting or, and this was probably worse, deemed adequate in the worst possible way.
Unnerved and irritated, Bella stayed close to Bombur, unwilling to leave her brother’s side even for a moment, because, she knew, a moment would be all that was necessary. She was more than capable of defending herself, of course, but, by the Valar, she shouldn’t have to be on her guard while shopping. It was infuriating and the sensation of being watched caused her to stumble briefly, her still-healing ankle buckling momentarily because of the stress.
The two of them made quick work of finding the foodstuffs that Bella needed for the party and then Bombur arranged for it all to be delivered to the Mountain, under Arnura’s watchful eye. Bella and her brother, with Arníra flanking them protectively, wandered amidst the stalls and shops for some time after, Bella delighting in helping Bombur pick out trinkets to gift to his children and wife.
They spent quite a while browsing a stand selling small painted glass figurines; Bombur purchased a lion, an Oliphaunt, and some kind of sea monster that were sure to delight his little ones and Bella bought a pair of purple and red dragons, several brown bunnies, and some gold and black bumblebees to adorn her study. Bella also bought a large pouch of hard maple candies, because she might not have had much experience with children, but she knew they liked candy and she was determined to be the best aunt to Bomber’s bairns that she possibly could be.
Eventually, Bella and Bombur found there way to the entrance of a shop selling man-made weaponry. In the window were a few dozen sets of throwing knives with hilts in a myriad of colors, arranged in a manner that was designed to draw attention. It certainly worked, because Bomber paused before the store thoughtfully.
“My Nína will soon be of the age to start training with weapons,” Bombur explained to Bella.
Bella frowned and said in an undertone, “Wouldn’t dwarven-made be better?”
“For battle, yes,” Bombur agreed, “For training, these will do nicely.”
Bella nodded and followed Bombur into the store.
The weapons’ shop was fairly large and it was inside that Bella and Bombur bumped, quite literally, into Sigrid.
“Bella! Lord Bombur,” Sigrid gasped, yanking her shawl, which had fallen to her shoulders, back up to cover her dark blonde hair, “Er… hello.”
“Sigrid,” Bella greeted, one eyebrow raised, “Snuck out did you?”
Sigrid worried at her bottom lip for a moment before sighing, “Don’t tell my Da?”
“It’s not safe to be wandering around by yourself, Your Highness,” Bombur admonished gently.
“I know,” Sigrid said, “But I needed some space. I feel so choked sometimes.”
“Let us escort you back,” Bombur allowed, “And there’ll be no harm done or need to go running to your father, Princess.”
“Thank you, Lord Bombur,” Sigrid murmured gratefully, “And, please, it’s just Sigrid. I doubt I’ll ever be truly comfortable being called Princess.”
“Here, here,” Bella quipped wryly.
“Just Bombur then,” Bombur smiled jovially at her, “I’m just going to have a word with the storekeeper about those alabaster-hilted knives in the front window. Don’t wander off.”
“We wouldn’t get past Arníra at any rate,” Bella assured him.
Bombur gave her a look, “You are more than capable of getting past anyone you please, sister dear, even dragons and ring wraiths.”
“True,” Bella conceded.
Bombur trotted off and Bella turned to look at the sword that Sigrid had been admiring, “Were you planning on buying this?”
It was pretty, admittedly, the sword, but Bella knew that if tested it would be found lacking. All man-made weapons would be when compared to those made by dwarves or elves.
“No,” Sigrid shook her head, “I was just browsing.”
“Do you know how to use a sword?” Bella asked.
“I wish to learn,” Sigrid admitted, her words laced with longing and regret, “But my tutors believe that a Princess of Dale has no business taking up arms and Da… well, the idea of me, or Bain, or Tilda, being anywhere near another battle terrifies him. He’s agreed to let Bain practice with the bow, but… nothing that would require close range.”
“That’s not so surprising,” Bella told her, “He nearly lost all three of you during the Battle of the Five Armies. You, your brother, and your sister, you’re his world; that has always been plain to see. Have you asked Tauriel her opinion on the matter?”
“She agrees with me,” Sigrid sighed, “But she said that it is my father’s place to make such decisions and she will not train me without his permission.”
“Tauriel has great respect for your father,” Bella said, “He gave her a home when she had none.”
“I know and I understand her position, I do. It’s just… I felt helpless, during the Battle. I couldn’t protect myself or my siblings. I don’t ever want to feel that way again, Bella,” Sigrid replied earnestly.
“Well,” Bella drawled, “Tauriel's hands may be tied in this particular circumstance, but there are others who can train you. I know at least one person would be more than happy to teach you how to use a blade; it is his specialty, after all.”
“Who?”
“Fíli,” Bella answered lightly.
Sigrid blushed immediately, “I… I couldn’t ask him… he’s a Prince of Erebor.”
“And you’re a Princess of Dale,” Bella pointed out, “Ask him, he won’t say no, I can guarantee that. Fíli is not the kind of person to abide his friends being defenseless in this world. He takes offense to that sort of thing.”
“But, how could I possibly get away with meeting Fíli in secret for any length of time?” Sigrid wondered, “It was a feat just sneaking out to come here today.”
“It doesn’t have to be a secret,” Bella suggested, “Fíli is Erebor’s Chief Ambassador to Dale; you’re Dale’s Chief Ambassador to Erebor. It would make sense for the two of you to meet up for a few hours twice a week to go over the trade agreements between your kingdoms together instead of separately; it would save time and the prevent the need for couriers. You’ll be guaranteed to be alone, since only the two of you are allowed to negotiate on behalf of Dale and Erebor.”
That had been made into law rather soon after the Battle, Bella had learned from Ori, because Bard had been as furious over Bella’s banishment from Erebor as he over Tauriel’s from Mirkwood. Thorin and Bard got on better than Thorin and Thranduil, but only just. Fíli and Sigrid had stepped up to handle the relations between Erebor and Dale; because if they’d allowed their uncle and father to handle matters it would have taken ten times longer and caused a great deal of grief. Balin was the one who dealt with Thranduil’s ambassador, because he was the only one who could handle the elf’s disdain for Kíli with any kind of grace.
“That… my father’s council might actually approve that,” Sigrid replied, “They might even claim the idea as their own. We would have to spend time actually reviewing the agreements, of course, to prove that we’re getting something done.”
“An hour reviewing and an hour training,” Bella recommended, “You’ll be a Shield Maiden in no time.”
Bella was all that worried about Fíli’s propensity for going easy on those he loved; she was quite certain that Sigrid wouldn’t stand for that happening.
“I can barely hold a sword properly,” Sigrid muttered cynically.
“I barely knew what a sword was before I ran off on a mad quest to slay a dragon,” Bella rejoined.
“But… you fought so well in the Battle,” Sigrid protested.
“I was highly motivated,” Bella revealed, “To protect my family. I think that you are too.”
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When he was a lad, Bombur had always loved to watch others cook. It was how he had figured out what his calling was to be, watching chefs take simple ingredients and combine them into something that smelled and tasted amazing. Bombur had known, even when he was but a dwarfling of eleven, that a Master Chef was what he wanted to be able to become one day.
This dream had seemed perpetually out of his reach in Ered Luin, for he hailed from a family of poor miners and tinkers who could scarcely afford to pay for him to work as an apprentice under a baker, let alone someone as revered as a Master Chef was. He had long been forced to content himself with only being able to practice his skills as a cook when preparing meals for his family, while he spent his days as a tinker of mediocre talent. Bofur and Bifur were skilled miners and toymakers, the nobles loved to buy their pieces for their children, and this, above all else, was what allowed Bombur to feed his wife and their five children.
It depressed Bombur, knowing that he couldn’t truly provide for his loved ones without help, so when news of the Quest had come around, Bombur had jumped at the chance to change his fortunes. And change his fortunes certainly had.
He would never have to worry about feeding his family again, not when he possessed a fourteenth of a massive treasure. His beautiful Rína and their bairns would live in comfort for the rest of their lives once they arrived in Erebor. And Bombur had gotten what he always wanted; he had been appointed a chef. Not just any chef, mind, he was the Master of the Kitchens for the greatest dwarven kingdom in all of Arda.
There were some things he was still learning, of course, but Bombur was, for the first time, truly in his element and he thrived within it. Everyone loved his food and it made him so incredibly happy to be able to do what he loved. And Bofur and Bifur were so very proud of him too.
Preparing food for an entire kingdom, even one that was not yet anywhere near capacity, required precision and excellence. It would be easier once the caravans started coming, for although the Mountain would boast more people, there would also be plenty more cooks to help him out. Bombur was glad that formal dinners were only on Mondays, Trewsdays, Hevensdays, and Mersdays, because cooking for them was as exhausting as it was rewarding. He needed the three day break to recharge his energy. Oh, he still cooked breakfasts and dinners for the Company, but that was different. That was cooking for family.
He would not be cooking tonight, which was a first in a long time, but he was hardly disappointed, because if there was one person whose food he enjoyed more than his own, that person was Bella. She had only cooked for them once, in Laketown, the night before they left for the Mountain, but it had been an absolute delight to eat the dishes she had painstakingly prepared.
Bella was cooking now, as Bombur watched, flitting between the soups on her stoves, the frying sliced potatoes, mushrooms, and chickens, the cheesy potato and venison casseroles and cheddar cheese scones in one oven, the mixed berry pies, mini pumpkin spice cakes, and blueberry tarts in the other, and the cinnamon-spiced apple cider that she was warming up, as if she were a fairy. Bella pulled out the bag of acorn squash that she had selected in Dale and removed the fourteen large vegetables. She sliced off the tops, stirred her chicken soup counter-clockwise, scooped out the squashes’ seeds, flipped the frying potatoes, and then began filling the cavities with butter, the pork she had browned earlier, white wine sautéed onions, celery, and carrots, pine nuts, a thick pinch of oregano, and a quick dash each of salt and pepper. Bella recapped the squash, arranged them on a baking tray, and slid them into her oven beside the scones.
Bombur had offered to help her earlier, but she had shooed him into taking a seat at the white table in the middle of the space and then presented him with a plate of honey biscuits to snack on. So Bombur dipped his cookies in the warm vanilla honey milk that she had poured for him and watched.
Bella sang as she cooked, lovely and light nonsense songs about flowers and sunshine. She had a beautiful voice, for all that it was very different from the low tones of her dwarven kin, and Bombur quite enjoyed listening to it. It had taken weeks and weeks for the Company to discover how well she could sing and even then it had been an accident; they had caught her singing to Beorn’s giant bumblebees. She was shy about doing it; even now she only did so when her mind was occupied by other things.
Bombur figured that he could blame the people back West, who had failed to love and cherish her, for this. They were to blame for a great many things. Although, Bella would never have become the Company’s most beloved treasure if not for the callousness of her people, Bombur could admit.
Bofur and Bifur slid into the thick wooden chairs on either side of him. They were freshly-bathed, probably because they knew that Bella would send them right back out of her pristine kitchen should they dare enter into it with the dirt of the day still clinging to them. Bombur’s brother stole one of his biscuits and munched on it.
“Bofur!” Bella spun around to face the dwarf, apparently not as far gone in her own little world as Bombur had believed, and waved her ladle at him in admonishment. Bofur looked at her with wide eyes, “If you want biscuits then ask, don’t steal our brother’s.”
Bella was definitely Bombur’s favorite sibling.
Bifur laughed as Bofur swallowed the biscuit he had pinched and smiled, “Sorry, Namadith, can I please have some of your fantastic, wonderful, amazing biscuits that taste like sunshine and happiness?”
Bella rolled her blue-green eyes but smiled back at him, “Yes, Nadad. Thank you for washing up first.”
“We had too,” Bofur revealed, as Bella brought over a plate of biscuits for him and another for Bifur, “We finally cleared out the rubble blocking one of the passages behind the Treasury and discovered that Smaug left us a few presents for us to find in there.”
Bella wrinkled her nose in disgust as she poured Bofur and Bifur some warm milk, “Oh, ugh, I could have lived happily ever after without knowing that, Bo.”
“Yeah. We had all hoped that we would never have to deal with that sh-” Bombur elbowed his brother hard in his side, “Er, crap, again.”
Bella huffed out a laugh, “Well, at least it’s done now. And Smaug’s gone, so you don’t have to worry about cleaning up anything like that after today. I do hope that you two washed really, really, well.”
‘We did,’ Bifur signed, ‘There’s nothing left of the worm now, except his scales and skin, which we’ve used for other things. We cooked his meat and it wasn’t half bad.’
Bella stared at Bifur’s hands for a long moment before recovering, “You all ate the dragon?!”
“We had little choice, Bells,” Bofur explained, “Food was scarce during the first few months after the Battle. He tasted quite similar to chicken actually. Although we did all get rather sick of eating dragon-meat eventually, no matter how nicely Bombur and his cooks prepared it.”
Bella looked a bit green, “Needs must, I suppose. Although, I’m rather grateful for Lembas Bread now.”
“That’s Elfish, isn’t it?” Bofur asked.
“Mmm hmm,” Bella responded, as she turned to see to preparing a salad that would apparently have lots of berries and nuts in it, “It’s what I ate in Mordor. When I remembered to eat anyway.”
Bombur straightened immediately, “Have… have you started feeling hunger again yet, Namad?”
“No, but I only slept for seven hours last night,” Bella revealed, “Which is an improvement. My body’s healing, Bombur, it is.”
Bombur would not be satisfied until she was completely healed. He worried about her ankle too; he had not missed how she had wobbled on it briefly in Dale. He would mention it, discreetly so as not to upset Bella, who only barely tolerated her brothers fussing over her, to Óin so that the physician could look at it.
“So,” Bofur drawled then, “A little bird told me that you’re thinking of getting a tattoo.”
“I’m going to kill Nori,” Bella replied evenly, tossing the emerald leaves of the salad together with ruby-red raspberries, indigo blackberries, crispy chestnuts, and crunchy walnuts.
“I didn’t say it was Nori,” Bofur protested.
Bella raised an eyebrow at him, “You didn’t have to, brother dear. Yes, I’m getting an inking. I’ve already spoken to Óin about it. He’s going to do it tomorrow, after we gather the herbs he needs from the forest.”
“What are you getting?” Bofur asked.
“That’s for me to know and you to find out,” Bella said primly, “Would you like some more milk, Bombur?”
“Yes please,” Bombur accepted the proffered drink heartily.
“Aw, c’mon, Óin knows,” Bofur said.
“Because he’s the one doing it,” Bella pointed out, “You’ll find out with everyone else.”
“I bet it’s a flower,” Bofur mused thoughtfully, “Or a cake, you like cakes.”
“Kunjâlmuzm,” Bifur suggested.
“Very funny,” Bella responded dryly, “I’m not going to tell you, so there’s no point in guessing.”
“I guess we’ll find out who wins the pot tomorrow then,” Bofur stated.
“You all placed a bet on what my inking is going to be?” Bella asked, “Seriously?”
“Oh, Bells, haven’t you figured out by now? We bet on everything,” Bofur answered.
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The food was, as Bombur had predicted it would be, quite amazing. He ate as much of it as he could, as had every other member of the Company. Bella had eaten a bit more than she usually did these days, to appease her brothers who watched her food intake warily, but the amount was still too small for Bombur’s liking.
Bombur had been a bit worried how Bella would handle having Thorin in her suite, since her sitting room had been designated as the location of the engagement party, but if Thorin’s presence made her uncomfortable, Bella was hiding it well. Even when the two found themselves almost entirely alone on a couch by the fire, which was dancing merrily in the hearth, much later that evening, Bella’s composure remained serene.
Because he was tucked into a nearby armchair, half-asleep, Bombur managed to overhear the conversation that followed between the two. He was instantly alert as soon as the first words fell from Thorin’s lips, though neither Thorin nor Bella realized that he was merely feigning slumber, watching the pair through half-lidded eyes.
“This was a very good idea,” Thorin murmured to Bella, admiration coloring his tone, “Though I’m not sure how you managed to convince Dori and Nori that Dwalin was good enough for their baby brother; I was half certain that I would have to issue a special edict forbidding the older brothers Ri from murdering my Master Captain.”
Bella huffed out a quiet laugh, “I simply reminded them that there are a great many clots in this world who would have no qualms about vying for Ori’s hand solely because of his looks. Dwalin loves him for far more than the turn of his face and Ori loves Dwalin for far more than his skills as a warrior. I’m so happy that they’ve managed to figure things out.”
“It was getting a bit ridiculous,” Thorin agreed, and he really was one to talk, Bombur thought, because could the king look any more love struck if he tried, “When did you know?”
“For certain?” Bella considered that briefly, oblivious to the affection Thorin was directing her way, “When Dwalin stepped between Ori and Bard’s bow, after we pulled ourselves out of that wretched river. I knew, definitively, then, though I’d begun to suspect at Beorn’s. They sought each other’s company out quite a lot while we were recovering there.”
“True,” Thorin inclined his head in agreement, “It took me longer, but, then, you always did understand the matters of the heart more clearly than I.”
Bella blinked up at Thorin in startled confusion, “Thorin-”
Bella and Thorin both started slightly as a loud thump drew their attention away from each other and toward the center of the room, where Glóin was dramatically bemoaning the loss of both his pride and a small bag of monies, having lost an arm wrestling contest against Nori, who looked undeniably smug about his victory as Bofur clapped him on the back. Glóin had obviously had far too much to drink as he would have never dared to challenge Nori in a sober state; Glóin knew well that the strength of the brothers Ri was no myth. It was amusing… and irritating, because Bella and Thorin had been so close to figuring things out…
Bombur sighed, pretending to wake up, “Wha’s goin’ on?”
“Glóin is drunk,” Bella announced, amused.
“Am not,” Glóin protested, his voice slurring just a bit, “It’s a poor dwarf that can’t hold his spirits, sister. I think I’ll have another.”
“Unfortunately, we’re fresh out,” Bella lied, “You should go to bed; I’m sure there will be more in the morning.”
“Well, alright,” Glóin agreed, “But it better not be any of that poncy wine that Thrandy-well drinks; only good dwarven mead should be drunk in this mountain.”
“I’ll make a note of that,” Bella promised, “It would certainly make things more interesting.”
“Aye!” Glóin declared as he stumbled out of Bella’s sitting room.
“Your rooms are the other way, Glóin,” Bella called after him.
“Of course they are!” Glóin shouted back.
Óin shook his head in the kind of fond exasperation that only a person with siblings could truly understand, “I’ll see that he gets to bed, goodnight everyone.”
To Bombur’s sincere regret, Bella and Thorin remained away from one another for the rest of the evening, keeping at least one other person in between them at all times. It was terribly frustrating, especially since Thorin, at least, seemed to be staying away from Bella deliberately.
It wasn’t malicious and Thorin certainly didn’t seem happy to be doing it. Resigned, was the way to describe it, and that damned stoic mask was back in place.
Did the stubborn bastard not want Bella to forgive him?
Actually, Bombur realized ruefully, that was probably the root of the problem. Thorin had to know, in his heart of hearts, that Bella would absolve him of every dark thing that had transpired between them during his brush with insanity if only he asked it of her. But he didn’t want her to pardon his actions, because he couldn’t let go of his guilt. Thorin probably believed that he was protecting Bella by keeping her at a distance.
It was noble… and stupid. In other words, it so quintessentially Thorin that it made Bombur want to weep and knock his king in the head at the same time. Because Thorin was so very wrong. Bella needed him; that much had become blatantly obvious.
Gimli had told Fíli that Bella needed love to heal from what the Ring had done to her, but it was clear that brotherly love was not quite enough. Being with her brothers, seeing Tauriel, was helping, of course it was, and she seemed less diminished with every day that passed, but Bella would never be the bright, confident sprite she’d been in the few days following Thorin’s proposal in Lake Town, would never be whole, without Thorin’s love.
A part of Bombur wondered, would always wonder, if the Ring could have hurt Bella as much as did if she’d had the Company, if she’d had Thorin, by her side as she marched through the Wildes and into Mordor. He suspected the answer was ‘no’ and that broke his heart, just a little.
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The following day was unseasonably warm, which suited Óin, and Bella, just fine as the nice weather would make gathering herbs all the easier.
“It hasn’t been easy,” Óin told Bella, as they trekked across the southern side of the Lonely Mountain, a small band of Dáin’s dwarrows trailing behind them both to safeguard and assist, “Finding any significant amounts of medicinal plant life during the autumn months, it gets cooler here faster than it did in the Blue Mountains, but I did manage to locate a fairly large patch of lavender last week that I’d like to be collected and stored; it should last us through most of the winter. Mixed into a tea, lavender can calm nerves, bathing in lavender water can ease pain, and it can stave off infection when mashed into a paste. It was around here somewhere, growing amidst a sizable quantity of another flower, one I couldn’t identify, unfortunately. Ah! Here’s the patch.”
Óin watched as Bella’s eyes lit up in delight at the sight of the purple and silver flowers that were growing in large clusters here and there. Just standing amongst the blossoms seemed to induce her demeanor to brighten considerably. Spring could not come quickly enough, Óin determined, because Bella deserved to be surrounded by the blooms that invoked such pleasure in her countenance everyday.
“Silver Amaranth,” Bella spoke in a loud, clear voice, her fingers lightly petting a stalk of the silvery flowers that Óin had been unable to name, even after paying a visit to the Great Library, “This is marvelous, Nadad.”
“It is?” Óin tilted his head to accent the question.
“Silver Amaranth can be harvested as a grain,” Bella revealed, excited, “We can make a thin, white bread from it and a type of sweet called Llawenydd.”
“Llawenydd?” Óin echoed, well aware that he had butchered the pronunciation quite completely.
“It’s Greentongue,” Bella illuminated, “It means ‘joy’. It’s a type of oak cake, made by mixing the popped grains of the plant with honey, sunflower seeds and pumpkin seeds. It’s very good. There’s enough Silver Amaranth here to last until spring comes.”
“We’ll gather it as well then,” Óin decided, ushering their helpers forward and instructing, “Bind the lavender and amaranth into tight bundles, lads. Separately, don’t mix them together. This will be an enormous help, especially if anything happens to the convoys coming from Rohan and Gondor. The Wildes are dangerous still, even with the Dark Lord gone.”
Bella nodded, “I imagine that Saruman will do everything he can to make this winter difficult for us.”
“Don’t you go blaming yourself for that, lassie,” Óin counseled her, “It will not serve you. Saruman would likely be doing his best to make our lives difficult even if you were not living here.”
“But my living here ensures it,” Bella remarked in a dry tone and then sighed, almost inaudibly to Óin ears, “Were there any other plants you’ve found growing around this part of the Mountain?”
“Weeds,” Óin told her, “At least that’s what I perceived them to be. You’re welcome to take a look around, as long as you stay in sight.”
“I will,” Bella promised, swinging the woven basket she’d brought with her slightly as she moved off.
The dwarrows were halfway finished with the harvesting by the time that Bella wandered back over to Óin’s side, her basket full to the brim with Red Clovers.
Óin raised an eyebrow at the sight.
“Red Clovers have been used in the Shire for generations to increase fertility,” Bella told him and then expounded on the topic as she lifted the basket so that he could examine the plants more closely, “Most Hobbit women drink a tea distilled from the clovers to augment their chances of having multiple children at once. It will not reverse natural barrenness, but you mentioned that many dwarrowdams have problems getting and staying pregnant and I thought that this might help, a bit.”
“If even one dwarrowdam delivers a healthy babe because of this plant, it will be an enormous blessing,” Óin assured her.
Bella blushed, “Red raspberry leaves can do the same, mixing the two creates a potent fertility draught, but we’ll have to wait until summer for that.”
“You are such a gift, Namadith,” Óin praised, “And a priceless one at that.”
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“Can we see it now?” Bofur asked, bouncing a little bit in excitement.
“See what?” Bella asked, purposely making her tone innocent and demure.
“Your inking, of course!” Bofur exclaimed.
Bella took in the sight of all her brothers, save Óin, looking ridiculously eager to know what she had chosen to have tattooed on her body, “You all are the epitome of reserved patience.”
“Bél,” Kíli whined, pouting at her and pulling her down into his lap so that she couldn’t escape the room.
Bella giggled and rolled up her sleeve to reveal the inside of her right wrist to them, sitting right above the bracelet Fíli had given to her.
“That’s…” Glóin trailed off.
“The rune that Gandalf left on the door to Bag End,” Fíli finished for him.
“It was this mark that brought all of you into my life,” Bella explained softly, “It changed everything. Without this rune, I wouldn’t have all of you.”
Kíli squeezed her tightly, peppering her hair with light kisses, “It led us to you… remind me to thank Gandalf again, when I see him next.”
“Why your wrist?” Ori questioned, taking her wrist into his hand and gently tracing the raised silver mark.
“So I can see it whenever I want,” Bella elucidated, “Especially when I use Sting.”
“Sting?” Nori inquired.
“I’ve only ever had one reason to use my letter opener,” Bella said, “And that reason is to defend my family.”
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It was customary, in the Shire, to give other people presents on one’s birthday. This was done to illustrate how grateful an individual was for their family and friends, how thankful they were to be alive. This particular tradition was not one that was practiced by any other race that inhabited Arda, least of all the dwarrows of Erebor, who were of the firm belief that a person was to be spoiled rotten on the anniversary of their birth, a way for family and friends to show how grateful they were to have said person in their lives. Fortunately for Bella, she had already spent one birthday amidst her dwarven kin, her thirty-seventh, and so she knew to expect the fuss that was going to be made over her when September the twenty-second dawned.
She had already prepared the gifts for her brothers, sister, Sigrid, Bain, Tilda, and Thorin, though she wasn’t entirely sure how the last would feel about receiving anything from her, and had them all delivered early that morning. Her brothers and sister received beads carved from jade with tiny dragons etched onto them. Sigrid received a silver hair brush covered in butterflies shaped out of moonstone, (twisting the handle of the brush would reveal a slender dagger with a wickedly sharp blade). Bain got a selection of arrowheads crafted from the teeth of wargs and Tilda was sent a puzzle box full of candies and colored wax chunks that could be used as draw utensils. Thorin’s gift was stationary embossed with ravens in flight; Bella had purchased the thick, glossy paper in Gondor on an impulse because it had reminded her of Thorin.
She had not the means to send presents to her friends whom were battling for her sake in the south, so Bella was forced to content herself with sending them her prayers and best wishes.
Following breakfast, in which all of Bella’s favorite dishes were prepared, Glóin dragged her all across the Mountain while the rest of her brothers put the finishing touches on something. Bella wasn’t sure what this something was, but she knew, because she knew her brothers, that it was sure to be extravagant and over the top.
It was just past luncheon when Kíli approached her with a smirk and a blindfold.
“The last time I let you blindfold me,” Bella reminded, vividly recalling the one and only game of blind man’s bluff that Fíli and Kíli had managed to talk her into, “I fell into a lake.”
“There are no lakes in the mountain,” Kíli assured.
“That’s technically not true,” Ori interjected, “There’s quite a large lake that the cold springs lead into and three of the public bathing pools could be considered small lakes once they’re finished being prepared.”
“None of which we’re leading Bella anywhere near,” Kíli pointed out.
“If I run into a wall,” Bella warned without heat, “I won’t bake you any cookies for a month, Kee.”
“No walls or lakes,” Kíli promised, fixing the blindfold to cover her eyes and then taking her hands in his.
Bella allowed him to lead her, confident in his ability to keep her from harm than despite her teasing. It didn’t take long to reach their destination, though they had to climb several flights of stairs to do so. Bella frowned as fresh air hit her, because they certainly hadn’t gone through the gates, and then the blindfold fell away and Bella gasped at the sight that greeted her.
It was a garden, one that was, admittedly, currently devoid of that which made a garden a garden, namely green life, but it held the promise of one day becoming the single most beautiful garden that Bella had ever known. And that included the ones in Rivendell and the Greenwood that were so lauded.
A babbling brook cut the space in half, separating the sections meant for flowers and small trees from those meant for vegetables and berry bushes. There was an enormous greenhouse in one corner, fashioned entirely out of crystal and gold, and geometric-shaped beehive in another. There was a cool cave where mushrooms could flourish, situated next to the little pond where the brook ended. There was a terrace up above, reached by ascending a spiraling staircase, and it was so easy to imagine ivy spilling over the edges. On the terrace was a place to sit and drink tea and read and soak up the sun, big enough for the whole company, of course, and dozens of little herb boxes.
The space was situated in the perfect spot, getting just enough sunlight to ensure that the plants that would grow within it would flourish, and the entire thing was encased in a net of silver, extra protection to guarantee that this would be a safe place for Bella to come to.
“You built me a garden,” Bella managed to say, tears spilling down her cheeks and catching in the creases of her smile.
“We wanted you to have something to look forward to,” Fíli revealed, “During the winter months. It can get very dark and cold.”
“It’s a very good thing that I have such amazing brothers then,” Bella replied, her gaze moving away from the wonderful promise of a garden to the even more wonderful dwarrows who had created it for her, “Isn’t it? Neither the dark nor the cold can touch me as long as I have you.”
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Translations
- Kunjâlmuzm – Bunny
- Namad – Sister
- Namadith – Little Sister
- Nadad – Brother
- Nadadith – Little Brother
- Llawenydd – Joy